


Nishkarsh

by The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi



Series: Raazi Canon Fics [7]
Category: Raazi (2018)
Genre: Afterlife, Alia Bhatt, Angst, Bollywood, Canon fic, Drama, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iqbal and Sehmat, Missing Scene, Post canon, Romance, Vicky Kaushal, after her death, bollywood fanfiction, meghna gulzar, sehmat dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi/pseuds/The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi
Summary: Nishkarsh, meaning closure.This is the end. She looks towards her father who is still smiling, albeit sadly. "What lies beyond it?""Everything. And Nothing. The Beginning and the End. Closure."
Relationships: Sehmat Khan Syed & Hidayat Khan, Sehmat Khan Syed/Iqbal Syed
Series: Raazi Canon Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490783
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Nishkarsh

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Raazi or its characters, plot, or settings. All rights belong to Dharma Productions and Junglee Pictures. I do not intend to cause hurt to any person(s) through this work of fiction. The incidents portrayed in the narrative are fictional, and do not confirm to actual events that might have happened during the '71 era. I respect all our Soldiers who fight for our countries—at the border or otherwise—and this piece of fanwork does not intend to disrespect them.
> 
> The fic is of a 'missing scene' type, compliant to canon.
> 
> Sehmat dies in fic, and this is about her journey to the afterlife. If you have any problems with this, you have been warned.

**_Nishkarsh_ **

_ Nishkarsh, meaning closure. _

_ This is the end. She looks towards her father who is still smiling, albeit sadly. "What lies beyond it?"  _

_ "Everything. And Nothing. The Beginning and the End. Closure." _

* * *

There is a softness in the air when Sehmat goes to sleep that night, but there is also restlessness—as if the night was waiting for something. As if the night had been waiting for it since the beginning of time. The restlessness of the night does not disturb Sehmat, however. Instead its soft breeze and the gentle swaying of the trees lull her into a comforting slumber—one that feels blissful, free from the pain and agony her dreams usually subject her to. 

When she was a little girl Sehmat had known bliss. She had known contentment. It had taken her too long to learn to appreciate her happy childhood. But by then it had been too late—it was gone; it would never come back. The Chinar groves, the lakes, the biting cold, the snow, her mother's special loquat, and …  _ Abbu.  _ They would never come back. And by now she has made peace with it. She too, has moved on. 

This doesn't stop her throat from constricting when she finds herself in a familiar backyard, though, nor does it stop the tear that rolls down her face when she starts on a well worn trail, moving between huge trees and dodging uneven ground as if by reflex. It has been years,  _ decades,  _ since she had last been here. Been  _ home _ .

For a moment she stops going wherever her feet are taking her and basks in the sheer melancholy of it all. The trees are taller than ever, the air cold and tinged with a spicy scent. There is a novel sense of exhilaration in her—happiness and excitement she had last felt in what feels like a different life. She's a little girl again. The world is exciting. Her soul is unmarred. 

And on she goes, making her way to a tall figure standing at the end of the grove, at the edge of a pond, smiling expectantly. She knows who they are, she thinks, from their figure and their posture, but she slows down in her journey, losing some of her cheer. It has been years since she had last dreamt of Abbu. Her dreams are usually plagued by others. 

There are perhaps a few meters between them when she stops. She can see him clearly now, can feel the warmth of his smile, can feel the overwhelming urge to run to her father, but she doesn't. Because although it has been a long time since he had last visited her, she remembers with startling accuracy how his visits end. And she does not have it in her anymore to lose him again. 

"I've been waiting for you," Abbu says after some moments of heavy silence, smiling. Sehmat breathes out slowly, the action feeling strangely hollow. She puts a single foot forward, her steps feeling heavier than ever, and nods. Abbu beckons her forward, extending his arms in a warm welcome. Sehmat hesitates for a single moment, then moves forward again, her steps slow, her eyes set on her father, until she is standing right before him. 

She doesn't know why she is startled to find tears in his eyes, his gaze holding the fondness a man could only have for his child. For the first time in an eternity Sehmat remembers again what it is like to have a father. For the first time in an eternity she feels her father envelope her into a hug, fuss over her the way he used to in uncomplicated days. 

"You've done well," he says, eyes shining with proud tears that he doesn't hold back. 

Sehmat swallows. How many years had she spent wondering? How many times had she wandered to the edge of insanity, wondering if her actions had been right? How many times had she wondered if she had done all that she could? But the pride in Abbu's eyes does away with those doubts. He pats her cheek fondly like he always had and it is right then that she realises that this is not a dream at all. This is something else. This is the end. 

Abbu nods knowingly before she can even ask the question, and he turns her slowly towards the pond at the edge of which he is standing. She can't see the other end of it. It reflects the blue sky clearly in it, every cloud that passes overhead, even themselves. Except Sehmat is not how she had been when she had gone to sleep that night—there are no worry lines on her forehead, her skin does not show her age, her hair hasn't greyed—she is just the way she had been when she was twenty, when she had changed the course of her life.

She looks towards her father who is still smiling, albeit sadly. "What lies beyond it?" 

"Everything. And Nothing. The Beginning and the End."

Sehmat turns back towards the body of water, a small sprout of uncertainty growing in her belly. If this is the end … Samar and Maa …

"They'll be fine," Abbu whispers softly beside her. He has been through this, she realises. He had to leave them behind too. "At the other end is closure. The life that you deserved. The life you could've had …" he trails off, then swallows. "It's time, child. The hardships that you have faced, they end now." 

He extends a hand to her, and Sehmat takes it after a single moment. This really  _ is  _ the end. She turns back to look at the path she had traced for the last time, then nods.

They step into the pond together, Abbu guiding her across the vast expanse of the pond, it's water feeling cool but not wet. It's as if they were walking on a bridge made of water that connects two worlds, and with every step she takes she feels her connection to the other world ebb away. 

The difference between the two worlds strikes her the moment she sets foot onto the shore of the pond. The world of the spirits is not different from that of people in its structure. But Abbu was right—he always is—on this shore lies closure. 

On this shore lies hope. Hope that perhaps her worst crimes can be forgiven. Hope that perhaps she could lessen the burden that she has been carrying with her all these years. Hope that perhaps here life can begin anew.

Abbu pats her head fondly. "Someone has been waiting for you here." 

She looks at him, then swallows. She is certain she knows who it is. 

Abbu motions towards the Chinar grove before her, the mirror image of the world over there. "Go on," he says, smiling softly.

She steps forward slowly, steps still heavy, but not as heavy as her heart. It has been years. Thirty years. Thirty years in which she has spent every single day wondering what he would think of her. If he could feel her regret. If he could feel her remorse. If he had seen their son, who looked every bit his father's boy. Perhaps her crimes  _ could _ be forgiven, but did she deserve that forgiveness after all that she had done? She couldn't find it in her to forgive herself in thirty years. But then it wasn't her place. 

She finds him all too quickly. He hasn't seen her yet because of the large tree that shields from his sight. Iqbal looks just like he always had. Soft features, sharp eyes, a calm aura, and love. She had always wondered, and still does, how he could love so wholly, after everything that he had lost. Does he still love so consumingly? Would he ever love her so completely? 

It is by chance that he happens to glance her way and see her, and Sehmat freezes, the motion so remnant of their wedding that she feels as if she is back in that moment. Iqbal doesn't move either, only looking at her with an expression she is too scared to decipher. 

It is with apprehension that she finally steps forward and braves meeting his eyes. The last time she had looked into them they had been bitter, filmed with tears. But right then they are warm, and they speak a hundred things.

"Sehmat," he says softly, her name feeling at home on his lips.

"I'm sorry," she whispers to him, because there is nothing else that she can say. "For everything that I have done …" her voice breaks, and a lone tear rolls down her face. She looks away, shutting her eyes and sighing, bringing up her hands to her face.

"I am so sorry," she says again, tears now falling in earnest, thirty years worth of remorse and regret all crashing down on her. She can't bring herself to look at him at all for the fear of what may lie there. 

"I know," he says softly, and his voice is not bitter the way she had feared it would be, nor does it have anger in it. Only remorse and regret, like her. He draws closer and slowly brings her hands away from her face, urging her to look at him.

His features are soft the way they have always been and his eyes hold the love she had never hoped to receive. "I know."

This is closure.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know how you like this fic by leaving kudos or comments :)


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